Car Review: 2001 Ferrari 456GT

2001 Ferrari 456GT

PHOTO: Handout, Ferrari

By David Booth, Canwest News Service

Originally published: August 10, 2011

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I could start this road test with some gratuitous statement about a Ferrari’s sex appeal; something to the effect that if you can’t ‘pull’ the opposite sex with this car, you’re probably better off taking up filing tax returns as a hobby.

Or I could wax lyrical about the mellifluous exhaust note, made even more somniferous on this 456GT by the aftermarket Tuby exhaust system that lets the big V12 really hit the high notes.

Even easier would be some off-the-cuff description of the Pininfarina’s classic lines; that like virtually all of Ferrari’s cars, the 456GT is sure to be worshipped in two or three generations just as the TR250 Testa Rossa is today.

Yes, I could start with any of those. And they’d all be true. But I’m not going to. Instead I’m going to talk about the artistry of shift levers. That’s right, shift levers.

Like most Ferraris with manual gearboxes, the 456 has the famed H-gate plate (the exception is the new 360 that uses paddles on the steering wheel to change gears, thus dispensing with the shifter completely) that guides the lever into position. It’s a billet aluminum affair that’s as beautiful as anything I’ve seen on a car. In fact, it’s so beautiful that Ferrari Quebec (where I borrowed the GT) sells the plate and the 456’s shifter mounted to some mahogany as a $549 paperweight/curio.

But, what I loved best was its sound. After a brief period of reluctance (Ferrari boxes have always needed warming up before shifting right), the lever snicks into gear with a precise metallic click of aluminum on steel, satisfying in a way that says “You, and you alone, have just chosen a gear perfect for this occasion; one that any lesser mortal would have flubbed.”

Wail the big 5.4-litre V12 up to 6,000 rpm, snick it quickly, but deliberately, into fourth, and for a moment you’re at Misano. It’s 1979 and you’re Gilles Villeneuve. Or is it 1933, the Mille Miglia and Tazio Nuvolari? I’m not sure, but you sure do feel damn special.

It’s almost secondary that the 456 is a good car. For their $329,000 the seriously moneyed get a really spectacular automobile. It might not have always been so, but Ferraris are now thoroughly competent automobiles – with reliable Bosch electronics and ABS – that just happen to be the most desirable cars on the planet. Hell, the 456 is even comfortable. The seats are well padded, the ride no firmer than a Mercedes CL600 and the air conditioning and audio systems are excellent.

I’ll be perfectly honest; I didn’t get to flog the 456GT down a windy road so I can’t regale you with feats of daring do and running from the law (though, if cops are anything like most of the general public who gawked at the Ferrari, it would take at least an hour to stop grilling you about its performance before they haul your butt off to the clink). What little silliness I did indulge in says that the GT will be every bit as competent as the next super car, though it’s doubtful that even one of them (in North America, at least) will ever be pushed within 50 percent of its limits, unless, of course, the owner is brave enough to meander onto a racetrack.

The great, hulking V12 under the hood pumps 440 horsepower from its 5.4-litres and double overhead camshafts. Fast doesn’t begin to describe it, and nothing with four seats (for the 456 does has vestigial perches in the rear) – except for a Porsche Turbo – accelerates quite as hard as the Ferrari. And even though the Porsche is faster, it can’t match the 456’s sheer class. Besides, they’re almost common compared with a Ferrari.

Though the V12 is redlined at 7,250 rpm, the Ferrari also pulls from idle like any ordinary automobile. There’s no need for pleading with archaic Roman gods to get the thing to start and its performance is as routine as any Toyota V6, albeit one that can emulate a booster rocket if you mat the loud pedal. Ferrari claims a top speed of 300 km/h (295 with the four-speed automatic) and acceleration to 100 km/h in just 5.2 seconds. And this is Ferrari’s touring model. The top-of-the-line 550 Maranello revs higher, steers more quickly and just generally assaults the senses even more. I guess in that one, it’d be Nurburgring, its 1957 and I’m Juan Manuel Fangio, the greatest driver in racing history in his greatest race ever. That’s before I even got off the showroom floor.